


Cinnamon

by beverly1992



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 10:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beverly1992/pseuds/beverly1992
Summary: It's back to routine for Gene after he's discharged from the hospital following a serious fall.After a familiar kindness is shared with him, he realizes that maybe this Gene Taković persona isn't such a bad fate for him after all.





	Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction takes place not long after Gene passes out in the Cinnabon shop and is dispatched from the hospital. Since the outcome of that hasn’t been revealed to us in the series yet, this is my version of the story. It’s been years since I wrote fiction so apologies for any inconsistencies, but Gene gave me a bit of inspiration this evening. There is no sexual content in the first chapter, but there's more to come soon. Enjoy.

He looked himself up and down in the mirror. It had become a ritual at this point. He’d stand about a foot away and just stare passed himself in silence. Every morning. At the same time. The silence was just a disguise for his wildly racing mind; reiterating the past few decades of his life, every second felt like another lifetime. He gave himself 10 minutes before begrudgingly snapping out of his daze and accepting the fact that he’d have to leave. He reached over the sink and grabbed the brown, sweat-stained visor, placing it atop his head, adjusting it so it perfectly circled his scalp.

He would joke to himself, “A visor? Seriously? This thing’s a fucking bullseye for my bald spot. At least a baseball cap would save me a bit of my dignity.”

Finally, he reached deep into the front pocket of his khakis and pulled out a flimsy, worn nametag. He held it below him for a moment, swallowing hard, almost afraid to look down at it knowing that when he did, it would taunt him into submission. He let out a heavy sigh as if he’d been holding his breath before reluctantly opening the back of the pin and piercing it above the right side of the apron’s pocket.

 _“Welcome back, Gene.”_ He mumbled under his unkempt moustache.

\--

Gene flicked his wrist in front of him and glanced at his watch. This day had dragged on agonizingly longer than he’d anticipated. The shop had finally closed, the metal gate locked, most of the staff had already said their “goodbye’s”. It was just him and a couple other coworkers doing a proper clean up before heading out for the night; making sure everything on the list was checked off. Gene pulled his visor off and placed it on the freshly windexed countertops. His head lightly throbbed where he’d landed on it not a week prior.

In retrospect, he probably could have taken more time off given the circumstances, but the thought of having people talk about him while he wasted away in his disheveled condo was less than ideal. He didn’t want people caring about his health and he _definitely_ didn’t want people wondering where he was. It was better to just play it safe. Business as usual.

Gene tossed the last of the garbage bags to the side before stretching his back.  
  
“...Hey.” Beth said in an airy tone, coming around the corner of the kitchen. “Let me give you a hand with those.” She eyed the pile of bags and before he could answer she took one in each hand.

Beth had been hanging around this place longer than he had. Somehow along the way, Gene had surpassed her in ranking. Maybe it was a sympathy promotion; seeing a man in his 50’s making minimum wage at a cinnabon was depressing even by management’s standards. In any case, that’s how things rolled around this joint and he refused to make a fuss about it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah, thanks.” He answered before taking the remaining bags.

The two of them paced down the hallway to the industrial-sized garbage bins out back. They both knew, the faster they’d gotten this shit done, the faster they could relax and go about their private lives at home. Gene made his way through the door placing the bags before the giant bins. He lifted the lid and quickly tossed the sacks in, one after the other.

Beth leaned against the door with her back, “I’ll keep this open. Here..” She said, gesturing to Gene to take the garbage from her. He glanced in her direction and let out a small smirk. It had been a while since he’d let any form of a smile grace his face.

“You’ve been talking to the custodian, haven’t you?” Gene teased stepping her way and relieving her of the filth.  
  
She returned a smile, “My lips are sealed.” He knew full well that she was aware of his little incident. Locking himself in this dungy, rotten room wasn’t one of his finest hours and word must have gotten around.

“Mr.Taković..” She started.

“Please, call me Ji-” He caught himself before continuing, eyes widened. “Gene, is fine.” He corrected himself after ridding himself of the remaining bags. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. He wiped his hands back and forth against each other and turned to face her again.

“...Gene,” She continued. “I saw you walking down the block from the bus stop this morning. They don’t want you driving, do they?” Sure enough, she was right. Given the impact of his concussion mixed with the spontaneous fainting, driving in his own car was just asking for a death sentence. He could never be too careful. “It’s getting pretty cold and at this time of night, you’ll be lucky if another bus comes in the next half an hour. Let me give you a lift.” She insisted, tilting her head toward the exit for him to follow her.

Gene scanned the room as if to look for something then nodded in agreeance. Every bit of kindness felt like a blessing and god knows he made short work of those.

“Thank you, Beth. You’re a real peach.” He placed his hand on the door above her, holding it open as they exited together.

\--

Beth pulled up to the curb beside his house, the wheels of her tires letting out a disapproving squeal over the freshly powdered road.

“Is this the one?” Her eyes darted across the lawn toward the house and back at Gene.

“You got it.” Gene hesitated for a moment, basking in the warmth from the heater blowing in front of him. He peered off ahead of the dashboard like he was prone to doing, dreading walking into that dull, empty condo. Some days it felt like being in a self-made prison composed of stale takeout containers and half-empty beer bottles. He contemplated if real prison would feel any better at this point... at least he’d have the company.

“Oh, and before I forget!” She turned and reached over the back seat of her rundown, old Honda. Her formerly pulled back hair was now falling over her shoulders. It framed her face nicely. “This…” She sung. Gene bit down on his lip, breaking out of his gaze. He watched her struggle to reach for it, then turn back to face him, “...is from all of us at work.” She held out a small, white envelope with Gene’s name scrawled across the top. “You know, just a little something. We were worried about you.”

Gene stared down at the envelope, his hand trembling as he reached for it.

“For me?” He managed to choke out a reply. He couldn’t remember the last time he was gifted with something and to be quite honest, he felt a stifled cry build up in the corners of his eyes. But there was no way in hell he’d humiliate himself in here with these impulsive feelings and this girl hovering over his shoulder. No. Crying time was strictly scheduled between the hours of ‘self-loathing’ and ‘basking in his former glory’ time. He wasn’t kidding about these emotions becoming a ritual.

Gene twitched his mouth into a big grin, his moustache sweeping across his face. He was apprehensive about going home and he felt like he was just given the golden ticket to finally getting out of it. Gene slid the envelope into his jacket pocket to savor for later. He felt a freshly ignited confidence begin to seep out of him. He clapped his hands down on his thighs and turned his attention back to her.

“Say, I know it’s pretty late already but, do you maybe wanna, grab a couple of drinks? Tomorrow’s a holiday, right? Unless you have some plans saved for good ol’ MLK’s birthday, I’m not judgin’.” He held his hands up like a guilty man in a shoot-out.

Beth brushed her hands over the steering wheel, staring away for a moment. This newly found attitude of Gene’s was pretty refreshing and she didn’t want to spoil it for him. Hell, she could use a few drinks herself.

“I might know of a decent bar near my place.” She smirked, taking the bait. “But you’re going to have to find yourself a cab because there’s no way I’m being your DD.”

“Hey, I get it. Drinks on me.” This was the first time in a long time he felt like he could really be himself.


End file.
